


broken

by thepessimisticasshole



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, blood tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepessimisticasshole/pseuds/thepessimisticasshole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"the humdrum’s- his- eyes are so tired- sharp as flint but exhausted. he’s a hole, and he wants to be filled-</p>
<p>and simon thinks it’s going to take all of him to do that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	broken

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: all characters belong to rainbow rowell

he’s kneeling in shards of glass and his life is pouring out through every pore.

it’s green, and it tingles, and it flows and flows and flows- until it’s not flowing anymore, it’s being sucked from him. and everything else is being sucked too, until the skin on his face and arms and torso is straining. until the hands on the humdrum’s shoulders _are_ the humdrum’s shoulders- like they’re blurring, melting together.

and the humdrum’s- his- eyes are so tired- sharp as flint but exhausted. he’s a hole, and he wants to be filled-

and simon thinks it’s going to take all of him to do that.

his vision is electric, crackling and flickering, and something’s wrong with his lungs- they’re not getting any air, and his stomach is roiling, and his arms shake like they’re wires-

but he can’t stop now.

the humdrum is grey- his eyes are a wild, solid blue and there are splotches of color in his cheeks but it’s like everything else has been sucked out. his curls are dull with dust and ash.

and they’re swirling, both of them- the roaring in his ears almost drowns out the screams around him; the mage, shrieking madly- _“simon! simon! SIMON!”_ and another, wordless howl- maybe it’s him.

and then-

everything flickers out.

-

it’s dark and empty and sucking and pulling and everything is swirling blackness and

-

he wakes up wrong.

he wakes up with his limbs sprawled at angles and someone slapping at his face and a hunger, deep in his stomach.

and he sits up on shaky limbs, great dragon wings snapping out to both sides, and stands- there’s a swirl of dust and pale limbs and deep green tunic at his feet, but it turns still with a pool of blood and jagged teeth.

he’s stood straight up, now, unsteady on his feet, his tail whipping behind him, and there’s something so, so wrong.

“simon?”

an uncertain voice, terrified, comes from behind him, and he furrows his brow.

“no.” he doesn’t think so. “maybe.”

he’s turning now, and there’s something crackling under his skin- and then a girl is staring at him.

“are you- the humdrum?”

“i don’t know. no. i don’t- i’m hungry.”

something’s behind him, getting to its feet, and suddenly there’s someone standing by the girl. handsome, pale, with guarded eyes and blood all down his front.

“you’re a vampire,” he says to him. he feels like fire, and mint, and something tugging in his chest.

“i am.”

“and you’re-” flashes. books and swords and a little girl with red hair and a purple ring. “coins- i don’t-”

she looks like she’s going to cry. “simon-”

“no,” he tells her. “i don’t think so.”

“i’m penny. penelope. if you’re not simon-”

_snap_. butter and cherries and green and fire, snapping through trees and flickering over the beautiful boy’s face. maybe he is simon.

“are you the humdrum?” she asks again.

empty. empty empty and lonely and bouncing a red rubber ball, all alone forever and ever and _ever_. always always _always_ jealously. maybe he’s the humdrum.

maybe he’s both.

“i remember-” he begins haltingly. “burning. everywhere burning. and cherries, and being so empty and taking everything i could get.”

he remembers milky hair and moonlight on ghost-pale faces and kissing.

the girl is crying now.

he doesn’t like her to cry.

“please, don’t-” he starts towards her, then stops. he doesn’t know.

and then suddenly he’s staggering under an onslaught of color and smells and names and memories- her name is penny and she’s his best friend, she’s simon snow’s best friend and he hates her he _hates her_ , the boy is his enemy he loathes he despises he hates _he loves, he loves_ -

he’s simon snow.

he’s the humdrum.

he’s both.

“penny, baz-” he’s sobbing, stumbling, he’s all wrong he’s all wrong-

he’s hate and he’s love and everything is broken.


End file.
